


RoPansMione Drabble

by hexedharlot



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Drabble Collection, Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, Multi, OTP Feels, One Shot Collection, Polyamory, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Triple Threat Triad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:15:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25235287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hexedharlot/pseuds/hexedharlot
Summary: First attempt at drabbles, with none other than the best ship ever. Ron: street smart and social smart, Hermione: school smart and psyche smart, Pansy: school smart and street smart. The dynamics make me happy, and I'm poly myself. Hopefully this doesn't flop
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Pansy Parkinson, Hermione Granger/Pansy Parkinson/Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Pansy Parkinson/Ron Weasley
Kudos: 6





	1. Sourdough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ron wants to make bread

"No! Don't touch him!!" Ron shrieks, rushing to where Pansy is inspecting an odd jar she found behind the toaster.

"Why not?" She asks him, grabbing his paisley apron, going on her tip toes and pecking his cheek.

"He's sensitive... But hey, I was just about to feed him anyway." She puts a hand on her hip, still not handing him the jar, which she now realizes is labeled Huey Lewis.

"Isn't this the name of that one muggle singer Mione likes?" She crinkles her eyebrows at it before movement catches the corner of her eye. Their wife has come down to the kitchen, looking extremely pretty. "Hey Hermione, be a doll and give me a kiss, ok, love?" The dark skinned lady walks over to kiss Pansy, pecking Ron's cheek as she passes him. 

"What's in this jar? That... That doesn't look like Huey Lewis to me." She chuckles and takes the jar from her wife. It's filled with a viscous tan liquid that's bubbling like crazy. 

"Be careful, Mione! That's my baby boy!!" Ron is growing more frantic by the second, eyes darting back and forth to the witches in front of him, both dressed in matching silk dressing gowns. They share a look of confusion before looking back up at their red headed husband, telepathically ordering him to explain. "It's my bread man, he's a sourdough starter."

Pansy still looks puzzled, but Hermione smiles her all-knowing smile and finally hands the jar to him. She then turns to her extremely confused wife, having to tilt her head up slightly to meet Pansy's gaze.

"It's to make bread. I've seen videos on how to do it before. You don't add yeast, you just put some water and some flour in a jar. You remove and add some every day to 'feed' it, and it makes a really tasty kind of bread."

"Wait, but why were you hiding it?" Pansy still looks very confused about this all.

Ron smiles and scratches the nape of his neck with a scarred arm. "It was supposed to be a surprise, you know? For, uh, for Valentine's day." Hermione looks at him like he's grown another head.

"Ron, it's November. Do you know how far away that is?" She turns to Pansy, but the taller girl smirks and says exactly what the frizzy haired one was about to say.

"What. An. Idiot," she says, grabbing Hermione around the waist and tickling her sides. Ron's just standing there, blushing.

"I know it'll be a while before Valentine's, I just thought I'd fuck it up. "And I named him Huey Lewis since most of their songs are about love... I'm honestly surprised at how well I'm doing. Mum helped me out."

"Well, without dear Molly, our baby boy Huey would be dead." Pansy finally let's up on teasing Hermione, only to tease Ron. The girls both pout out their bottom lips at him.

"Don't talk to me, or my son, ever again." He storms off, leaving the jar on the dining table. If Pansy wasn't so kind, and Hermione so knowledgeable, their little bread boy would have died, because in that moment, Ron had forgotten to feed it.


	2. Glitter

She glitters like the stars beneath the club lights. The chunky iridescent flakes applied to her cheeks make her stand out through the many dancers.

I wonder if she remembers how she used to taunt me. Does she know just how much that hurt? The words of teenage girls cut deep.

My body brings me closer without my conscious consent.

"Granger?" She asks, bewildered, over the booming music.

"Parkinson" is my astute response.

"You look different!" She yells as the bass drops, vibrating everyone's bones. "Did you stretch your ears since college?" I nod.

"Did you split your tongue?" She nods.

Grinning, she grasps my elbow. A long fingered hand ending in acrylic talons drags me off to a quieter area.

We drink ourselves silly inside the booth, laughing over our past rivalries from university.

Admiring the way her face glows, pale and flushed from the alcohol, I am woefully ill-prepared for her question.

"Granger. Ca-" she breaks off, biting her lips before continuing. "Can I kiss you?"

"I thought you'd never ask"


End file.
